


Looking for Jimmy

by miladydewinter



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fluffy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicide Attempt, bc it needed fixing, fixing the finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miladydewinter/pseuds/miladydewinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’s happened to Thomas? Is he alright?”</p>
<p>“Truth be told, Mr. Kent, I don’t think he’s been alright in a long while,”<br/>---<br/>Phyllis Baxter tries to locate Jimmy Kent in the hope that he might be able to cheer Thomas up a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a part two to this at some point in the (hopefully) near future.
> 
> This is my attempt at fixing the mess that was the season finale. I don't know if I can write Lady Mary well enough to fix... everything that happened to her (it's been months and I'm still so angry omg), but if anyone else wants to write a nice fanfic where she tells Talbot to go marry a car and lives happily ever after without him, send me a link. I would so read that.

Phyllis had heard many stories of the horrible things Thomas had done over the years. She could believe them, too. But she had known him far longer than the rest of the staff at Downton. She’d first met him when they were just children. He’d been carefree and innocent, almost always smiling without restraint. She’d watched as that child lost his innocence, and even then it was she who tried to pick up the pieces, to comfort him in some way. And she understood now that the reason he came across as so cold and so cruel was because he had to. Because if he didn’t, he might find himself in prison. Because even if prison didn’t scare him (and it did), Phyllis knew that after what happened with Luke, and the beatings and the scoldings and all of the crying that followed, he wouldn’t dare let anyone ever get that close to him again for fear of what would happen should it catch the wrong person’s eye.

She’d known he was sad, of course. She just hadn’t realised quite _how_ sad. It wasn’t until his suicide attempt that Phyllis was able to look back on all their conversations in recent months and berate herself for not picking up on all of this sooner. In hindsight, it should’ve been obvious. But, then again, these things are so much easier to spot when you know what you’re looking for.

Phyllis refused to believe that in all the years that Thomas had worked at Downton, he had not made a single friend. He’d been there for over a decade, after all. That gave plenty of time for someone to break down his walls and see him for who he really was, as she did, not who he pretended to be.

She asked around. One woman was mentioned, a Sarah O’brien, but apparently she was a rather nasty sort and not many people seemed eager to want her back. More often, though, they spoke of a man named James, or Jimmy. Jimmy Kent.

Phyllis gathered up as much information about this ‘Jimmy Kent’ as she could and began to piece together what happened during his time at Downton. Mrs Patmore had told her he was very good-looking and very cocky, and that her kitchen maid Ivy was always very distracted by him. Apparently, it wasn’t just Ivy who liked the look of Jimmy. Thomas did too. And this O’brien woman exploited that and convinced Jimmy to cosy up to Thomas, and Thomas to make a move. Only Jimmy wasn’t interested in men and Thomas didn’t learn until the very last minute. They were bitter for a while, and it looked like Thomas would be arrested, but then His Lordship of all people told Carson he thought it best if Thomas stayed. 

Things were tense between Jimmy and Thomas for a while, but something happened at a fair (she couldn’t find out many details, but it sounded like Thomas let his romantic heart take the helm and ignored all reason, as he was prone to do) and they were suddenly friends. Best friends, no less. And then Jimmy was discovered in bed with a guest upstairs, and was fired because of it.

Speaking of fire, apparently there was also an actual fire that very same night, and Jimmy wouldn’t have been discovered with this woman had there not.

She didn’t think it seemed wise to ask Carson or Bates for their input, since it was clear that they both strongly disliked Thomas. Daisy, however, seemed safe.

“Jimmy?” The assistant cook said when asked. “What do you want to know about him for?”

“I thought it might help cheer Mr. Barrow up if he had a friend,” Phyllis explained.

“How will having a friend help with the flu?” Daisy said, though the smirk on her lips and the raise of an eyebrow had Phyllis suspecting she knew more of the situation that she was letting on. News travelled fast in a house such as this, after all, no matter how much Carson might wish otherwise. “Mr. Barrow and him were inseparable. Until the fire, of course.”

“What happened that night?” Phyllis pressed. “How did the fire even start?”

Daisy shrugged. “All I know is it started in Lady Edith’s room. Mr. Barrow went in an’ carried her out, all knight-in shining-armour like.”

Phyllis couldn’t help but smile. That sounded like Thomas. “Hold on, so if he saved Lady Edith’s life that night, why is everyone still so quick to vilify him?”

“I never thought about that,” Daisy admitted. “It’s odd, isn’t it? Maybe what with Lady Edith being in London and everything, everyone’s put it out of mind for the moment.”

“Maybe,” Phyllis did not feel convinced. “Listen, Daisy, do you know where I can find this Jimmy? I think it’d cheer Mr. Barrow up ever so much.”

Daisy paused in her washing up for a moment, considering possible connections. “I’d start with Lady Anstruther, Miss Baxter.”

Phyllis thanked her and went off in search of some paper and a pen.

The letter was rather full of lies. She pretended she had been a housemaid during the time of Jimmy’s employment, and was rather smitten with him. She begged Lady Anstruther to give her any information as to his current whereabouts, because she was so desperate to see him again. Given what she’d heard about Jimmy and his effect on Mrs. Patmore’s kitchen maids, she felt that this approach was the most likely to work in her favour.

Carson was less than willing to hand out Lady Anstruther’s address. He was still rather angry at Thomas (which was fine, because Phyllis was still rather angry at Carson), and even when she revealed her intent to find Jimmy and make Thomas happy again, he was unwilling to help.

Luckily, he was so outraged by her request that he vented to Mrs Hughes over dinner in their cottage, and she sought Phyllis out early the next morning.

“I think it’s very kind what you’re doing for Thomas,” she said. “Mr. Carson keeps a book full of important addresses. I’ll copy Lady Anstruther’s out and get it to you by noon.”

True enough, one of the housemaids slipped her a piece of paper as they passed on the stairs.

“From Mrs. Hughes,” she said. Phyllis thanked her and tucked it away in her apron.

She was able to get the letter posted that afternoon, and a response arrived within a week. In it, Lady Anstruther confessed that she’d not spoken to Jimmy in a while, but that she had had the decency to send him an apology card and a bouquet of flowers after he was fired. He had been staying with an old friend at the time, and she had enclosed this friend’s address. She was unsure of whether or not Jimmy still lived there, but said it was the only lead she had, and hoped Phyllis well in her romantic endeavours.

Phyllis ignored this last part and made a note of the address.

She popped into Thomas’ room before she retired for the night. Tired as she was, she knew she’d be unable to sleep without first making sure he was okay.

“Master George visited me today with the Lady Mary,” Thomas said, a small smile playing on his lips. “He brought me this.”

Phyllis took the orange from his hand and grinned. “He really likes you, you know.”

“That makes one person, at least.”

“Two,” she corrected automatically. “I like you. And I’m sure there are many more people out there besides.”

“Two people,” his smile was sad. “Well, it’s two more than I thought I had, at least.”

She almost caved and told him her plan then and there, but that would ruin the surprise of it all. And she was so looking forward to seeing Thomas’ face when Jimmy walked through the door. Provided she could contact him.

Phyllis partially dropped her façade when writing to this friend of Jimmy’s. She was no longer a lovesick fool, but still wrote as though she had known him personally. She said they had been friends, and she was wondering what became of him. Perhaps they could catch up over tea?

This friend’s response took a day longer to arrive at Downton than Lady Anstruther’s had. He said that Jimmy had started renting a place of his own a few months ago, and enclosed the address.

For this letter, she dropped the pretence. Phyllis kept it short, not wanting to reveal too much information in case the address was wrong, or the picture she’d painted of Jimmy in her mind was rosier than the truth.

_“Dear Mr. Kent,_

_I’m a friend of Mr. Barrow at Downton Abbey. He’s recently fallen dreadfully ill and spoke of you with fondness, and I think it’d really help him if he heard word from you._

_If you care about him at all, meet me at the Grantham Arms this Friday (27th) at 5pm._

_Yours Faithfully,_

_Miss P. Baxter”_

She continued to visit Thomas every night before she went to bed. He was smiling more, laughing more, but she wasn’t about to believe he’d recovered. It takes more than a couple of weeks for a person to even begin to heal after something like that.

Mrs Patmore was a diamond on Thursday and let Phyllis take up a few ginger cakes left over from dinner upstairs to share with him. Phyllis could tell from Thomas’ face that he was touched by the gesture.

She managed to keep her meeting with Jimmy a secret right up until the last minute. Molesley was in coming in from the kitchen garden at the same time she was leaving and they bumped into each-other (literally) in the doorway.

“Where are you off to?” he asked, no doubt taking note of her hat, coat and gloves.

“I’m meeting someone,” she said cryptically.

“Oh?” he raised an eyebrow.

Phyllis rolled her eyes. “Not like that. He’s a friend of Thomas’. I thought he might be able to cheer him up a bit. Take his mind off things.”

“Mr. Barrow doesn’t have many friends, and those he does tend to be nasty pieces of work.”

“I’m not even sure he’s going to show up, if I’m honest.”

“What’s this friend’s name?”

“Jimmy Kent?” She scanned his face, finding recognition in it almost immediately.

“He had half the maids in a tizzy, with his perfect hair and everything,” Molesley recalled. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I’m a big girl, Mr. Molesley,” she assured him. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Still, he didn’t seem convinced. After a bit of awkward shuffling and staring at his toes, he finally plucked up the courage to say, “Mind if I come with you? I know what he looks like, so if he’s there I could point him out to you, and it means he won’t be able to… you know… woo you.”

“Woo me?” Phyllis repeated, smirking. “I highly doubt that’d ever happen, but if it makes you feel better.”

Molesley beamed. “I’ll just fetch my coat.”

They entered the Grantham Arms just after five o’clock. It was fairly quiet, but at a few tables there sat people in groups of one or two or eleven.

“Do you see him anywhere?” Phyllis whispered.

Molesley looked around in an entirely unsubtle manner. “There. In the corner. See?”

Phyllis followed his line of sight. “I think so. Let’s go over and say hello.”

Molesley seemed reluctant, but Phyllis wasn’t about to let this chance pass her by. Trying to look confident, she went over and stood by Jimmy’s table, knowing Molesley would follow.

“Excuse me,” she said, “are you Jimmy Kent?”

He looked up, made eye contact with her. He had a youthful, boyish face, the sort one would expect to put the maids in a spin. And Thomas, bless his heart.

Jimmy nodded and Phyllis smiled kindly. “May we sit?” Again, he nodded, and Phyllis took the seat directly opposite him. Molesley sat down beside her, looking most uncomfortable.

“I’m Miss Baxter,” she introduced herself, “and this is Mr. Molesley.”

“We’ve met,” Jimmy said. “What’s happened to Thomas? Is he alright?” Worry tinged his voice and wrinkled his brow.

“Truth be told, Mr. Kent, I don’t think he’s been alright in a long while,” Phyllis admitted. “He was very sad, and very broken, and I don’t think any of us realised quite how bad it was until he tried to take his own life a few weeks ago.”

“He did what?” Jimmy spluttered. “Is he still at Downton?”

“He’s on sick leave at the moment,” Phyllis explained. “He seems better, but then you know Mr. Barrow. He’s a wonderful actor.”

“He is,” Jimmy agreed. “Would it be possible for me to visit him? I wouldn’t require dinner or anything like that. I just want to check in.”

Phyllis and Molesley exchanged a look. “I’m sure that’d be quite alright,” she said.

“Won’t Carson-”

“I’ll handle Carson,” Phyllis cut Molesley off.

“That old goat still around?” Jimmy asked as the trio stood up and made for the door. “I was hoping he’d have retired by now, honestly.”

“He’s married to Mrs. Hughes now, actually,” Molesley said conversationally.

“You’re joking.”

“No, he’s not,” Phyllis confirmed.

Jimmy pulled a face. “Poor Mrs. Hughes.”

“Now, now, I’m sure they’re very happy together,” Phyllis insisted. “She would never have married him if she didn’t love him.”

“I suppose. Just she could do a lot better.”

Back at Downton, Molesley offered to take Phyllis and Jimmy’s coats and hats so that they could hurry upstairs to surprise Thomas.

“Does he know I’m coming?” Jimmy asked as they went up the stairs together.

“No,” she smiled. “It’s a surprise.”

Outside the door to Thomas’ room, Jimmy hesitated. “Did he tell you what happened between us?”

“No,” Concern filled Phyllis chest. Had she made a terrible mistake? Had they parted on bad terms? “Why?”

“Oh, nothing. Do you know about his… uh…”

“Preferences?” Jimmy nodded, blushing slightly. “I do.” Something clicked into place. “Oh, were you two…?”

“No!” Jimmy said, a little too quickly. “No, we were just friends. Best friends. He rather fancied me, but I told him I had… different… _preferences_ … and he was happy to be just my friend.”

That was a relief. If Jimmy’s arrival sent Thomas spiralling downwards again, Phyllis would never be able to forgive herself. “Should I knock or do you want to?”

“You go in first,” Jimmy said. “I’m suddenly very nervous.”

Phyllis smiled knowingly and knocked, waiting for Thomas to grant her permission before slipping inside.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

Thomas pulled a face. “You?”

“I’m alright,” she said, sitting down in the chair at his bedside. “I’ve brought a surprise for you.”

“Is it another orange?” Thomas teased.

Phyllis smiled. It was nice having him joke like this. Not at his own expense, as he’d taken to doing of late. “Better.”

“Better?” He let out a low whistle.

Phyllis turned to the door. “You can come in whenever you’re ready.”

The door opened, and there stood Jimmy Kent. Cheeks red, hands shoved in his pockets, teeth nibbling nervously on his lower lip.

Phyllis looked back at Thomas, the way his eyes had widened and his mouth had formed into a goofy smile she’d not seen in years.

She stood and made for the door.

“I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on,” she said, leaning in to whisper in Jimmy’s ear as she passed him, “he’s all yours.”

Jimmy’s blush grew darker, if that was at all possible. “Very good, Miss Baxter.”


	2. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joseph finally plucks up the courage to ask Phyllis to marry him. Of course, she can't enjoy her day if she doesn't know her best friend will also find happiness, and endeavours to set Thomas up with Jimmy.

Jimmy didn’t return to Downton. He’d found a job at a bar that he enjoyed immensely, and after his rather rude dismissal had no desire to go back into the world he’d left behind. Still, he met Thomas whenever he could- usually at least once a week.

Things between them were awkward at first. It had been so long since they’d last seen each-other, and both were unsure of how to act or what to say. That awkwardness was gone quite swiftly, though, and they were soon back to the way they always used to be.

One week, Thomas persuaded Daisy to let him take the off-cuts of the bread she and Mrs Patmore had used to bake bread-and-butter pudding the night before. He met Jimmy at their usual meeting place, and waved the paper bag full of bread crusts, grinning.

“What’s that?” Jimmy asked.

“You’ll see.”

Jimmy pestered him as they walked down to the river, anxious to know what his friend had brought. Was it a gift? Was it lunch?

They stopped by the river and Thomas finally handed the bag to Jimmy, who opened it and looked back at him, disappointed.

“You could’ve asked Daisy to make us sandwiches,” he said, “and not just give us some soggy old bread.”

“It’s not for us, nitwit,” Thomas took the bag back. “It’s for the ducks.”

“Oh.” Jimmy reached into the bag and pulled out a crust of bread. He tossed it into the water, and within seconds a duck had waddled out of the reeds and paddled out towards it. 

Thomas followed suit, and soon a crowd of ducks had gathered, quacking and squabbling over scraps of bread. Jimmy laughed as a little duckling won in a tug-of-war against its much larger sibling.

“I haven’t done this for years!” he said, grinning.

His joy made Thomas smile, much more than the ducks did. He loved making Jimmy smile. “Neither have I.”

-

When Molesley proposed to Baxter, the only person more surprised than Phyllis was Joseph himself.

Everyone else had been expecting it for years. Phyllis sat in the servants’ hall with Thomas one evening, pouting sulkily at her sewing.

Thomas sighed and set his newspaper aside. “What is it?”

“We told everyone our news today,” she explained.

“I know. I was there.”

“I was just expecting more of a reaction, I suppose. When Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes got engaged, everyone made such a fuss.”

“Do you want a fuss?” Thomas asked. Already he was formulating ideas. If he had to threaten the rest of the staff into gushing over Phyllis, helping her choose a dress and a venue, spoiling her and making a fuss, he would. She deserved to be happy, and if that was what she wanted, he was going to try his hardest to make sure she got it.

“No, no,” she admitted, after giving the question some thought. “I think I’d prefer a more quiet affair, to be honest. I just feel a bit…”

“Unwanted?”

“Yes. That’s it.”

Thomas folded his newspaper and placed it on the floor before rising from his seat and making his way over. He stood behind Phyllis, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.  


“You’ll always have me,” he promised.

-

The dress was quite easy to arrange. Cora sought Phyllis out the moment she heard the news, and congratulated her.

“I have so many old dresses I hardly wear anymore,” she said, “if you want to, I’d gladly let you borrow one.”

“My lady, I couldn’t,” Phyllis began.

Cora shook her head. “I won’t hear it. You can. Are you busy now?”

“I have some socks to darn but that can wait. Why?”

“Come with me,” Cora said, already starting up the stairs. “I can help you pick one out.”

-

“Bates?” Thomas spat. He had respected and agreed with Phyllis’ decision to ask Anna to be her maid of honour. The two women had become firm friends, and it was difficult not to like Anna. Her husband, who Molesley had decided would make an excellent best man, was another matter.

Phyllis sighed tiredly. “I know you don’t like him. But he’s friends with Joseph.”

Thomas fought the temptation to make a scathing comment about how idiots stuck together. “I know.”

Phyllis reached across the table to pat Thomas’ hand in an awkward attempt at comfort. “I’ll try to make sure you’re sitting as far away from each-other as possible.”

“I’ll be alright,” Thomas assured her, trying to force himself to believe it. “It’s your day. I want you to enjoy it.”

-

He told Jimmy of Molesley’s choice in best man the next time they met, and immediately felt better about the whole affair when Jimmy laughed at it.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Jimmy confessed, once he’d calmed down a little (though his cheeks were still beautifully flushed, and Thomas made himself look away before he did something stupid). “I mean, idiots do tend to stick together.”

It was moments like this, when Jimmy said exactly what Thomas had been thinking, that he was usually struck by just how much he loved him.

-

The day of the wedding, Thomas kissed Phyllis on the cheek at breakfast, wished her luck, and then headed out to meet Jimmy. Anna’s hands were more than capable enough for him to leave her in, and he was sure she’d be stunning once the ladies’ maid had finished with her. There was even talk of Mary lending the bride some of her jewellery for the big day.

Jimmy, like him, was wearing his best suit. Their plan was to kill time before the ceremony, and then head to the church for ten o’clock.

Jimmy had bought a new best suit since his time at Downton, Thomas noted, and this one fit him much better. The last one hadn't been bad, but this one seemed personally tailored to him. It enhanced his shape, rather than enveloped it in black cloth. Thomas tried hard not to stare.

“What is it?” Jimmy asked. “Did I get crumbs on my shirt?” He brushed at the non-existent toast crumbs anxiously.

“No, no, it’s,” Thomas coughed nervously. “It’s fine. You look great.”

“Ah.” Jimmy said, cheeks flushing as he realised why Thomas had been staring. “I see. Thank you. You look, um,”

“Yes?” He said it too fast, too eager to have Jimmy compliment him. Even if just as a friend.

“You look lovely,” Jimmy smiled bashfully. “Come on. There are some lovely little cakes in the bakery window, and I am buying you one.”

-

Thomas and Jimmy sat together at the back of the church, close to the aisle. Thomas could see everything. Molesley stood at the front of the building, shuffling his feet nervously and fiddling with the sleeves of his blazer. Bates stood beside him, calm and resolute, and Thomas thought he might be whispering assurances to the groom.

He tssked quietly and looked at Jimmy.

“What?” Jimmy asked innocently.

“Bates.”

“Urgh.”

Thomas loved the way Jimmy could articulate his own thoughts aloud. He really did.

They rose with the rest of the congregation as Phyllis entered the church. She was chewing her lip and looking at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but the people gathered to see her. But she was still so very beautiful. The dress Cora and she had settled on was a pale blue, and the veil had been bought to match. Anna held the cascade of fabric up off of the floor and followed behind, smiling brightly.

Thomas noticed the death grip Phyllis held her bouquet in and smiled. Typical.

After the ceremony, they headed out into the churchyard where the newlyweds were showered with rose petals. Phyllis pulled a lily from her bouquet, ‘to keep’, and tossed the rest over her shoulder as per the tradition. Andy jumped to catch it and turned to give it to Daisy, smiling goofily. She rolled her eyes and swatted him irately, but her grin matched his, and she accepted the flowers.

The reception was to be held in the hall at the local primary school. Mr. Molesley had quickly become one of the favourite teachers there, and the headmaster had been happy to let him borrow the venue for the day. Food had been prepared by Mrs Patmore and sat on a table at the far end of the hall, awaiting lunch time.

Everyone wanted to wish luck to the happy couple. Jimmy and Thomas mostly kept to the side-lines. Thomas knew he could give Phyllis his best later.

“I’m going to go get some orange juice,” Jimmy said. The juice was mostly there to cater for the children, but Thomas wasn’t about to tell Jimmy that. “Would you like some?”

“I’m alright,” Thomas said. He watched as Jimmy pressed his way through the crowd of people in his pursuit of orange juice.

A hand on his arm made him jump slightly, and he turned to find Phyllis. How she’d managed to wrangle her way away from the throng of well-wishers, Thomas had no idea. He was impressed though.

“Take this,” she pressed the lily from her bouquet into his hands.

“I thought you wanted this as a keepsake.”

“A cover,” she explained slyly. “I kept it for you. If you go down the corridor and into one of the classrooms, you shouldn’t be disturbed. It’s not a school day.”

“Shouldn’t be disturbed doing what?”

“Please,” she rolled her eyes. “You and Jimmy have been making eyes at each-other since I brought him back to you.”

Thomas hoped his embarrassment didn’t show on his face. “We have not.”

“You have. And I want you to tell him how you feel.”

“You weren’t here last time,” Thomas felt his heart sink at the memory. “It didn’t go very well.”

“You’re a hard man to get to know, Thomas,” Phyllis explained, “and an even harder man to love. It takes time, with both those things. Jimmy’s had time. And anyone with eyes can see he loves you.”

Jimmy was making his way back through the crowd with his glass of juice now, and Thomas hastily stuffed the lily into his blazer pocket before he saw it.

“Good luck,” Phyllis nudged him, smirking. “Not that you’ll need it.”

Thomas elbowed her as subtly as possible and smiled at Jimmy. “Miss Baxter, uh, Mrs Molesley,” he was never going to get used to that. He could already tell, “wants us to help out with some… lifting. Down the corridor.”

Phyllis nodded, latching onto the ruse. “Could you? It’d be such a great help.”

“Of course, Mrs Molesley,” Jimmy assured her. “Can you hold my drink until I get back?”

“Of course,” she reached out a hand and Jimmy passed over his glass of orange juice.

“Congratulations, by the way,” he said, “for getting married.”

Phyllis smiled. “Thank you.” She turned to Thomas. “If lifting those boxes doesn’t go very well, I’ll be here for you, alright?”

“Thanks, Phyllis.”

“I mean it. Don’t do anything stupid, just because you can’t pick up a few boxes. Although I’m sure you’ll manage. You’ll thank me, later.”

“For asking us to lift some boxes?” Jimmy cut in, confused.

“Oh, yes,” Phyllis bit back a smile and shot Thomas a devious look.

Thomas led a befuddled Jimmy out of the school hall and into the corridor. Phyllis hadn’t given a specific classroom- she’d said they should all be free- so he decided to walk down the corridor a little so as to minimise suspicion, opening the third door he came to and holding it open.

Jimmy walked in and looked around, confused.

“I can’t see any boxes,” he said, brow furrowed, as Thomas shoved his hands into his pockets and let the door close behind them.

“That’s because there aren’t any,” he replied.

“What?”

Thomas sighed. How was he going to explain this? He reached into his pocket and pulled out the lily. “Phyllis wanted me to give you this.”

“She did?” Jimmy accepted the flower and studied it curiously. “But I thought she was in love with Molesley.”

“She is.”

“Then why did she- oh.” Jimmy looked up at Thomas, eyes wide. “She wanted you to- oh!”

“Yes,” Thomas really wished Jimmy would say something other than ‘oh’. Maybe give him some indication as to whether or not Phyllis’ inferences had been correct, or whether he should listen to his nerves and run away now.

“Does she think I… you know?”

“Yes,”

“Oh.”

Thomas waited. For a sign. A hint. Any indication as to Jimmy’s real feelings.

“Is she psychic do you think?” Jimmy asked eventually.

“I doubt it,” Thomas answered factually. It took a moment for the meaning of Jimmy’s words to sink in. “Wait, you mean you-”

“Yes,” Jimmy was grinning. “I thought maybe it was just my brain playing tricks, but I can’t shake this feeling that I… I think I love you.”

Thomas was grinning now, wider than he thought he ever had in his life.

“I don’t know when it started,” Jimmy continued. “Maybe even before I left Downton. I just know that one day, it became so _obvious_. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of keeping it a secret, though. How did she know?”

Thomas shrugged. “Phyllis has always been good at guessing people’s innermost thoughts.”

“Good is an understatement,” Jimmy said, looking back down at the flower in his hands. “Did you thank her for this?”

“Not yet,” Thomas admitted. “I didn’t really get chance to.”

“You should thank her straight away, when we get back,” Jimmy decided. “But first.” He stepped closer. Closer than Thomas had dared let himself be to his best friend ever since that dreadful night. It seemed like an eternity ago.

“First?” Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“First, Mr Barrow, I am going to kiss you,” Jimmy announced. And then he did.

One of Thomas’ hands tangled in Jimmy’s blonde hair. He was going to be scolded for ruining it later, but for now that didn’t matter. Right now, all that mattered was getting as close to Jimmy as possible.

His other arm snaked around Jimmy’s waist and Jimmy’s hands reached up, grabbing the lapels of Thomas’ jacket and pulling him down. Closer, closer.

The door opened and the pair jumped apart, though there was no hiding how dishevelled they looked. How thoroughly kissed.

Giggles, as Daisy and Andy hurried into the room and closed the door. They didn’t notice Thomas and Jimmy until they were already in the room, by which time it was too late for either pair to bluff their way out.

“We won’t tell if you don’t,” Daisy said quickly.

“Deal,” Thomas agreed. “We’ll, uh, leave you to it.” He grabbed Jimmy’s wrist and dragged him towards the door.

As they left, Jimmy turned to wink at Daisy, who rolled her eyes.

“Now,” they heard her say, just as the door swung shut behind them, “where were we?”

In the corridor, Jimmy and Thomas took one look at each-other and burst out laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a short epilogue (like, _really ___short) already written. So keep an eye out for that ;)


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the very last part! It's short, but I think it ties everything up quite nicely. I hope you like it :)

A year into their marriage, Phyllis found herself expecting twins. After the debacle with Lady Sybil and little Sybie’s birth, Thomas was terrified when he heard the news. Delighted, but terrified. He sought out Dr. Clarkson and insisted he be the one to deliver the babies, and then waited outside the room with Joseph during the birth, much to the latter’s chagrin.

“She’s a strong woman,” Joseph said, while they both tried (and failed) to ignore the pained screaming coming from the other side of the door. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Lady Sybil was a strong woman,” Thomas reminded him.

The Molesley twins were born happy and healthy, without complications. Phyllis and Joseph named them Rosie and Posie, which Jimmy informed them were stupid names.

“If you ever have a baby, you can name them what you like,” Joseph had snapped. “These are _our_ babies. We can call them what _we_ want.”

Jimmy and Thomas visited the Molesley’s regularly. When the twins were three years old, a shop down the road from their house went up for sale. Jimmy and Thomas pooled their savings and bought it, and Thomas was finally able to quit service. They turned it into a clock-makers and a clockwork repair shop, and Thomas hired Jimmy as his assistant. And if they both happened to live in the quarters upstairs, well, then that was just for convenience. It made running a shop much easier if both employees were always on call.

At least, that was the official story.

Rosie and Posie grew to love their Uncle Thomas and Uncle Jimmy like family. Even if their Uncle Jimmy did insist on calling them Florence and Tabitha, or Molly and Clementine, or whatever other names happened to come to mind when he needed to address them.

“Are you happy?” Phyllis asked one summer. The twins were now ten years old, and were taking it in turns to push each-other on the swing that Joseph and Thomas had built into the tree at the bottom of the garden. Currently, Joseph was attempting to light the barbecue he’d recently bought, and Jimmy was lecturing him on how to do it properly.

It’s worth noting that Jimmy had never actually used a barbecue before either.

Thomas and Phyllis sat on the patio, sipping from glasses of lemonade. It was to him that her question had been directed.

“Yes,” Thomas said, without thought. “I think I am.”

“I bet you’re glad I asked you to carry those boxes for me at my wedding,” she smirked.

He smirked back. “Very. Thank you.”

“I told you you’d thank me.”


End file.
